Six Embraces
by PenguinPickle
Summary: Five times Aramis needed a hug and one time someone just really needed to hold him.
1. Chapter 1

1

The musketeers come across something on a journey home and they try to shelter Aramis from it.

Warnings for this one: a scene of violence and gore, though not described in detail. Also, brace yourself for some sweetness between Aramis and Porthos.

…

The wind blew sleet into his face and stuck on his eyelashes. He paid it no mind; he simply couldn't take his eyes away from the scene in front of him. They were traveling back from a mission for the cardinal when they came upon it. Athos, in all his kindness had tried to stop Aramis from seeing them but it was too late, the damage was done. He knew they were staring at him, he could feel it, their gazes were far too heavy and too full of worry.

He turned to face them, "I need to go for a walk," He stated and started walking past them.

"Aramis," Athos said after sharing a glance with Porthos.

Aramis turned to face him, hoping he would not ask if he was alright when he clearly was not, hoping Athos would not ask him to stay.

"Don't stray too far." Athos said.

Aramis nodded and turned to walk away.

…

They hadn't been on the road too long when it happened. The snow was starting to slow down and the air was even beginning to feel slightly warmer. They spoke casually, poking fun at one another with Athos and Porthos in the lead and Aramis and d'Artagnan at the back.

The surrounding atmosphere had suddenly grown quiet and thick. The horses stopped on their own accord and grew restless, as if they had been a little startled.

"Whoa…" d'Artagnan said, as he tried to soothe his steed.

They heard a growl and out of some trees strode a wolf. Its face was red with blood and it bared its teeth at them. Aramis heard d'Artagnan gasp softly. Porthos yelled at the animal and it quickly ran away as it crossed their path.

"Something's not right." Aramis stated as he begun to dismount.

The others did the same. Athos and Porthos walked a little ahead while Aramis and d'Artagnan scanned the forest behind them. Aramis turned around and made to follow Athos and Porthos but Athos was suddenly walking straight towards him, holding his hands up passively.

"Aramis," he said, "stay here, stay with the horses."

"What?" Aramis asked, suddenly concerned, "Why?"

He tried to walk forward but Athos gripped his shoulders blocking his view of the road ahead. He side stepped and wriggled from Athos' grasp and walked forward.

"Aramis…" he heard Athos start from behind him, "Don't, please."

But it was too late. He saw Porthos leaning over something and the larger man looked up quickly. Porthos stood up and started walking towards Aramis but Aramis paid no attention to him. He was too focused on the people in the snow. There were five of them. Some were women. Their throats had been slit and the blood stained the snow all around them, painting an all too familiar picture in Aramis' head.

Porthos stepped in front of him, successfully blocking the scene. He rested his hands on Aramis' face and pulled up so Aramis could look at him.

"Aramis," he said, "go back; it's going to be alright."

"No." Aramis said, side-stepping Porthos just as he had done to Athos, "Did you check them? Maybe we can help them if we ju…"

"They're gone, Aramis." Porthos sighed from behind him, "I checked them myself… they've been dead for a while now. It was bandits I reckon."

Porthos spoke with such softness that anyone who didn't know him might think it was the wind carrying someone else's voice.

Aramis stared at them. He could feel his hands start to shake. He could hear their screams and see the fear in their faces as they realised their fate. He could see the horror filled expressions on their faces as they watched one another get killed.

…

The sight never left him as he walked. His boots sunk softly in the snow and he realised he was not paying attention to where he was going. He turned back and sighed with relief when he realised he just had to follow his footprints.

Inhaling a shaky breath he leaned his back on a tree and slid down its trunk. He sat hunched against the tree before he heard footsteps. He looked to his left and saw Porthos approaching slowly. Porthos stopped ahead of him and leaned against the tree opposite, saying nothing. Aramis looked down at his hands; he knew there was no way Porthos would leave him to wander the forest alone. The man could be quiet as a mouse if he wanted; a deadly combination to his size and strength. Yet Aramis knew not one kinder soul.

Aramis felt his breath catch and looked down to his hands which were still shaking. His breath caught again and again. At first he thought he was crying but then he realised he was hyperventilating. Suddenly larger gloved hands were covering his and Porthos was leaning in front of him.

"Aramis," He said softly.

Aramis was beginning to shake and panic a little. He looked up to Porthos' face after the man tightened his grip on his hands. Porthos' chocolate eyes were warm and soft. He looked incredibly sad. Somewhere near them a crow flew into the sky but while Aramis startled Porthos did not. He remained calm and not once did he remove his eyes from Aramis'.

Porthos' brows pulled together in worry as Aramis lost more control over his breathing.

"Just breathe, Réne." Porthos said, "Everything is going to be alright, I will make sure of it."

"Th-the wolf." Aramis managed to get out. He took a deep breath and started to breathe normally again.

Porthos looked down then and Aramis felt his stomach drop when he saw a tear escape his friend's scarred eye.

Porthos looked at him again, "I know," he whispered.

It was only after Aramis began to breathe normally and his body stopped trembling that Porthos let go. As the man stood he gently placed his hands under Aramis' arms to hoist him up. He did not let go when Aramis was on his feet, as if he were worried Aramis might fall back down. If he was honest, Aramis thought he just might. He knew Porthos would not embrace him first. In the months after Savoy, both Porthos and Athos had learned that in these situations Aramis did not like feeling caged. A few well aimed punches and kicks had confirmed that theory and Aramis still cringed slightly at the thought of it. He wasn't in Savoy.

"No," Porthos stated softly, "you're not."

Aramis looked at him a little surprised. Had he said that out loud?

"No," Aramis repeated, "I'm not in Savoy and nor will I ever be again."

This was the mantra they had taught him in those months and Porthos nodded his head slowly, an incredibly heartbroken expression on his face.

"Look at me, Aramis." Porthos whispered, "You are with me. And as long as I am here, you _will_ be safe. This I promise you until my dying breath."

The words sent a deep warm weight down Aramis' chest right to his heart. He did not deserve this man, this kind soul who would jump in the line of danger to save him. Aramis never thought he was worth saving, he never thought his life was ever worth much at all. Yet when Porthos looked at him it was always with kindness. No matter the situation, Porthos would always stand by him. Even when they fought it was because one of them were worried about the other. What Porthos saw in Aramis that was worth such love, he never knew. Aramis looked down and realised that Porthos' grip under his arms had not faltered or loosened in the slightest.

"I…" Aramis stated, lost in his emotions.

"What is it?" Porthos asked, "What do you need?"

Aramis leaned forward a little and Porthos' grip suddenly tightened.

"Aramis?" Porthos asked, clearly having thought Aramis was falling forward instead of trying to get closer.

Aramis shook his head and took a step closer and realised that Porthos understood when he felt the hands fall from under his arms. Porthos held his arms up and when Aramis stepped closer he wrapped them tightly around him. Aramis wrapped his arms around Porthos in return and felt himself sink a little as he relaxed. He shoved his face into the crook of Porthos' neck and sighed deeply. Porthos tightened his hold and moved a hand up to push the back of Aramis' head so that his face would be closer. There was never anything an embrace from Porthos could not cure. If Aramis were a selfish man he would ask Porthos to hold him every day and the beauty of it would be that Porthos would never deny him. Porthos would hug Aramis everyday if Aramis asked and he felt himself smile softly at the realisation. He huffed out a soft breath and felt Porthos rest his head above his own. Porthos pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head and he closed his eyes. He wasn't sure how long they were standing there until Porthos slowly released him.

"C'mon," Porthos said, "Athos is probably worrying himself over us. Do you feel better?"

He kept his hands on the sides of Aramis' arms and studied his face carefully.

"Yes," Aramis said, trying to smile but failing, "Thank you brother."

Porthos gave him a soft smile, "There is nothing to thank me for, Aramis. You're my brother. And besides, if you're sad then I am sad too."

Aramis swallowed and he let Porthos guide him back to the horses. Porthos walked closely beside him and they met Athos and d'Artagnan halfway there. They had brought the horses closer so that they could walk around the scene they had come across without Aramis having to witness it again. When they rode back Porthos rode next to him, staying as close to his side as the horses would allow.

...

I have an idea for the next one and for the final chapter. That leaves three more that I have yet to decide on. So, if there is anyone out there who has an idea for Aramis being hugged please share :)


	2. Chapter 2

2

Firstly thank you for the lovely reviews. Thank you to all who left suggestions on AO3, I have merged a suggestion made by Snow Glory with the initial idea I had for this one:

Aramis takes a page out of Athos' book in dealing with the death of Adele.

Warnings for this one: Alcohol abuse and so much cuteness I actually don't even know.

…

Aramis banged his empty mug on the table and looked at Athos expectantly. Athos raised an eyebrow and gave him one of his deepest frowns.

"Athos…" Aramis said softly, "You said you would help me forget."

"Indeed," Athos agreed politely, "I did not, however, say I would help you turn yourself into a useless alcohol-soaked blob on the floor."

Aramis, in his intoxicated state, managed to look insulted. He recovered quickly however, when he made his eyes as big as saucers and Athos hoped that that was not the look that sent the women of Paris into such a craze.

"Athos…" Aramis whined in a slightly more high pitched tone, "please."

Athos rolled his eyes as far as he could but filled up his brother's mug none the less. If only they had brought Porthos along. He would have simply hoisted Aramis over his shoulder and carried him kicking and screaming back to the garrison. And there was a reason that such dramatic tactics would have been needed.

Aramis, for all his nonchalance, was an incredibly needy drunk. He turned into an absolute child and would sit and mope and sulk if he didn't get his way. This was the reason the man never did drink much. But if this was what it took to help Aramis through dealing with Adele's death then this is what he would do. He watched as Aramis downed his new mug of wine and sighed. Aramis would be rather difficult to handle after this but if Athos was honest he didn't mind being needed. He just wished he sometimes had Porthos' tact when it came to dealing with their brother.

Aramis placed his empty mug back down and Athos caught it as it nearly toppled off the table. He watched worriedly as his brother shoved his face in his hands and rubbed at his eyes.

"She was so… different." Aramis mumbled past his hands, "She made me happy. We made each other happy and now she is gone. It's all my fault. I should have been more careful. I should have ended it."

Athos felt his heart sink. Aramis always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. He reached out and pulled his brothers hands away from his face.

"Aramis, look at me please," he said.

And Aramis did, with such heartbroken eyes that he looked more like a boy than a man. Athos sighed knowing that the words he was about to say would probably never sink in.

"This is not your fault. Yes, perhaps you and her should never have snuck around behind the Cardinal's back, but this murder was his fault and his alone. The Cardinal was a cruel man, Aramis. And he envied what you two had. You have your youth and your handsome face… women always turn around to stare at you. In fact it's rather annoying. The Cardinal didn't have that, so the only way for him to feel satisfied was to do what he did. You cannot blame yourself for this Aramis, I won't allow it."

He watched as his words slowly sunk in and Aramis looked down at the table. His brother truly looked stricken and Athos poured him another glass.

"There, that's your last one," Athos said as he pushed Aramis' mug closer, "then it's time for bed."

Aramis looked up at him as if Athos had just taken his favourite toy.

"Don't give me that look," Athos said sternly, "You're only two cups behind me and that is quite an achievement my friend."

Aramis looked at him in what was clearly a sad attempt at being threatening but gulped down the wine in his cup.

"Come on," Athos said as he stood up and stepped to Aramis' side of the table, "let's get you back."

He stretched an arm out and almost laughed at the repulsed look Aramis gave him.

"I can walk," Aramis said as he stood up and swayed backwards.

Athos grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him back up.

"I believe you think you can walk but from what I am witnessing I wonder if you can even stand."

He pulled one of Aramis' arms around his neck and helped him walk out of the bar. The cold wind that hit them outside was like ice and Aramis sobbed, actually sobbed, and pushed himself closer to Athos' side.

"Don't worry," Athos said, "we'll be out of the cold soon enough."

As they made their slow and unstable walk Athos decided they should just head straight to his apartment as it was closer. Aramis, for all his instability was doing alright and if he slowly started to lean more and more on his brother, Athos said nothing about it. They were about a block away from Athos' apartment when Aramis groaned and stumbled. Athos, in a manoeuvre that would have made Porthos proud, stepped in front of his brother and hoisted him over his left shoulder.

Aramis only sighed in response, having clearly given up any pretence of arguing about being carried. Somehow, probably because he had been drinking, Athos managed to unlock the door of his apartment and light a few candles all whilst holding a giggling Aramis over his shoulder. Why Aramis was giggling, he had no idea. Eventually he made it up the stairs to his bedroom and plonked Aramis unceremoniously on the bed.

Aramis grunted and his eyebrows shot up.

"Please tell me that is not how you get a woman onto your bed Athos." He said.

Athos rolled his eyes for the second time that night but couldn't help the small smile that grew on his face. For all Aramis' drunken neediness the man was funny, but Athos would never tell him that. He watched as his brother tried to sit up and pry his boots off his feet.

"Leave it before you knock yourself out," Athos said, using his most authoritative voice.

He leaned down to undo the lacing on Aramis' boots and looked up as his brother watched him sleepily.

"Go to sleep, Aramis." Athos said gently, "I will sort everything out."

He watched as Aramis' expression sobered and he looked down, suddenly engrossed in a loose piece of thread on the sheets.

"What is wrong?" Athos asked as gently as he could, as if trying not to startle a small child.

Aramis lifted his eyes to him and huffed, "I haven't been sleeping very well lately."

Athos could barely decipher the mumble but eventually he clicked.

"Nightmares?" He asked.

Aramis nodded, "But now they include her."

Athos sighed and sat next to Aramis on the bed. He was never very good in these situations and for the second time that night he wished Porthos were here to help. He felt a twinge of anger towards Anne for turning him into an emotionally awkward mess as he slowly lifted a hand and placed it on his brother's shoulder.

Aramis turned his face away a little. Clearly a hand on a shoulder was the wrong thing because his brother felt very tense under his touch. What would Porthos do? Athos thought back to the many times he had walked into one of his brother's lodgings and found them asleep beside one another. He knew that Aramis slept better beside someone but would he even feel comfortable sleeping next to Athos himself?

"Stop thinking so much you're making my head hurt." Aramis mumbled and wriggled out of his jacket.

He would have probably suffocated himself had Athos not helped him and Athos actually gave out a soft chuckle at the state of Aramis' hair after the ordeal.

"Stand up," Athos ordered, "let me pull the sheets back."

Aramis did as he was told, though rather shakily.

"Athos," He started, "I can sleep in a chair."

Athos looked at him sharply, "Don't be ridiculous, this bed is large enough for both of us."

Athos pulled the sheets down and looked at his brother expectantly, but Aramis just stood.

"Shall I fluff the pillows too?" He asked sarcastically.

Aramis gave him such a forlorn look that Athos found himself relaying all the last few minutes in his head to see if he had done anything wrong.

"Aramis," He begun, "I am an educated man but unfortunately when it comes to matters of… emotion… I find I am rather constipated. You will have to tell me what it is you need."

Aramis stared blankly at him for a moment and suddenly burst out laughing. It was a full, hearty laugh that made Athos start laughing too. Aramis shook his head and suddenly frowned and looked down to the floor. Athos stared at him and decided he ought to really not be so afraid of human contact. He stepped forward until he was close to Aramis and wrapped his arms around him. Aramis startled at first but eventually wrapped his arms around Athos in turn. Aramis felt as cold as ice and Athos squeezed him tighter. He felt Aramis rest his chin on his shoulder and Athos pulled him in as close as he could. Aramis turned his face to Athos' neck and huffed out some air through his nose. Athos rubbed his hands up and down Aramis' back in an attempt to make him warmer.

"She was different." Aramis mumbled into Athos' neck.

"I know." Athos replied and kept his grip firm.

Athos lost track of time as he realised that hugging Aramis was actually just as soothing for him as he hoped it was for Aramis. Eventually Aramis started to lean on him a little more and then quite a lot more until Athos stumbled under the weight. He pulled away and looked into a pair of apologetic eyes.

"Sorry," Aramis said, "Think I fell asleep."

Athos smiled at him and Aramis gave a very deep frown in response.

"Stop doing that with your face, it's scaring me."

Athos rolled his eyes for the third time that night and pushed Aramis to the bed. Aramis chuckled and slipped under the covers, giving a long yawn as he snuggled into the bed. Athos took off his own boots and jacket before climbing in after his brother. He looked over to Aramis on his right once his head was on a pillow. His brother was staring at the ceiling, seeming to be waging war on his eyelids as they fluttered closed only to be forced open again.

"Sleep, brother, it will do you good." Athos said.

Aramis frowned and without looking away from the ceiling said, "You know the reason I spend my time with so many women? I can't stand to be alone. Most of the time we don't even… Anyway what I'm trying to tell you is why I seek their company. If I wake up in bed beside a warm, breathing person, that is exactly where I wake up and I know where I am… _when_ I am. But if I wake up alone in a cold bed, I wake up amongst the dead."

The words sent an ice cold chill down Athos' spine. If he was honest he was not expecting that to be the reason behind Aramis' adventures with women. He really thought it just came down to a little overindulgence. And he was sure the rest of the regiment thought so too. He felt, in this moment, like he finally understood Aramis. _All_ of Aramis.

"René," Athos said, using Aramis' first name to get his attention, "you need only to knock on my door or Porthos' and it will always be opened for you. No matter the time or the day. No matter our mood. You know that, do you not? Or have we truly neglected you as friends that you would rather seek comfort from strangers?"

Aramis pulled his eyes from the ceiling and Athos noticed some unshed tears sitting in his brother's eyes.

"I know…" Aramis said, "But I never want to be a burden. I never want to overstay my welcome and I certainly don't want to abuse our friendship."

Athos shook his head, "You will never be a burden Aramis. Never. And I know Porthos would say the same thing. Porthos would actually agree with me for a change. And you will never overstay your welcome either."

Aramis gave a very weak smile and Athos frowned. Why was his brother so very insecure when it came to their friendship?

"Come here," Athos said softly.

He lifted his right arm and Aramis looked at him a little confused.

"Before the sun rises Aramis, please. My arm is starting to grow tired."

Aramis gave a more genuine smile and wriggled closer to Athos, resting his head on Athos' chest as the older musketeer rested his raised arm on Aramis' back and gave a squeeze. With his other hand he patted Aramis' hair back in place. When he was rewarded with a pleased sigh he started running his fingers through Aramis' hair more purposefully. With all his strength he pulled Aramis a little higher so that he could stick his face in Aramis' hair. He thought he heard Aramis purr.

"Aramis?" Athos said, checking if he was still awake.

"Hmm?" Was all the response he got.

"No one hears of this." Athos teased.

Aramis chuckled softly, "Not even Porthos? But he would be so proud."

" _Especially_ not Porthos." Athos stated.

"Athos?" Aramis mumbled through the fabric of Athos' shirt.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me, Aramis."

Aramis relaxed fully after a moment and his breathing began to even out. Athos allowed his eyes to drift shut and fell asleep with a slight smile on his face.

…

When Athos awoke again he realised that neither he nor Aramis had moved much in the night, except for the fact that Aramis was half on top of him and had his hands fisted in Athos' shirt. Athos blinked his eyes several times to allow them to adjust to the morning light. When he finally could register the room around them he startled ever so slightly at the sight of someone sitting in a chair near the end of the bed. Porthos was sitting there watching them with the biggest, smuggest, stupidest smile on his face that Athos had ever seen.

"If you say a word I will throw a candlestick at your face." Athos said calmly.

"First of all," Porthos replied, still grinning, "you left the door unlocked so the fact that I'm sitting here after I came looking for you two is really your fault. Second of all, you wouldn't dare throw anything at me because it will wake him up. And thirdly, your aim is terrible, especially with your left hand."

"Shut up and wipe that stupid look off you face." Athos snapped at him.

Aramis groaned softly and somehow managed to wriggle his body so that he was more on top of Athos than before.

Porthos chuckled softly, "Adorable, the two of you. Truly, you remind me of a pair of sleeping puppies."

Athos threw Porthos the most scathing look he could muster. He would have thrown back a retort were it not for how suddenly Porthos' face became worried.

"He alright?" Porthos asked.

Athos sighed, "I believe he will be, yes."

Porthos nodded and suddenly that boyish smile made a reappearance.

"What?" Athos asked.

He watched with narrowed eyes as Porthos started removing his boots and jacket.

"Porthos," Athos began, "I swear if you…"

But it was too late. Porthos was chuckling and climbing in the bed on the other side of Aramis. He threw an arm over both of them and pulled them flush against him.

His face near inches from Porthos', Athos made a sound of frustration and whispered, "I was doing quite fine keeping him asleep on my own, thank you."

"Oh I know," Porthos replied, "I just couldn't sit idly by and watch Aramis have all the fun."

"Fun?" Athos asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Porthos replied, "If you're offering hugs I'm taking. Besides, I knew the day would come when Aramis melts your frosty heart."

"I don't have a fro-" Athos begun but was cut off by a sound from Aramis.

Aramis had let out a long sigh of such sheer bliss both Athos and Porthos stopped talking at once. Porthos gave a soft chuckle next to his ear and tightened his hold on the both of them.

"This doesn't leave this room." Athos mumbled.


	3. Chapter 3

3

Hey everyone, I'm pleased to be giving you this next chapter before Christmas so consider it a Christmas gift from me to you. So Merry Christmas to everyone and if you don't celebrate Christmas then happy holidays J

I went with a request from 'Ann' on AO3 who asked for Aramis being hugged after the death of Marsac. I know it's another serious one but I can't help it, sad and/or hurt Aramis is my favourite and it makes me melt when they get all gooshy and cute.

I just wanted to say thank you very much for all the reviews, favourites, comments, kudos, follows and bookmarks I have received from everyone. I read and appreciate all of them very much. With regards to this this one; quite a lot happens in here because I simply couldn't accept a hug from the boys and everyone's happy and fine afterwards so it's quite a bit longer than the others.

Warnings: a small amount of fighting and a very wet, very unhappy Aramis.

…

Aramis watched as the rain drops turned the freshly dug grave sand into mud. It was only when the mud started to pool at his boots did he realise the rain had increased in intensity. He slowly came out of his state of deep thought at the realisation that he was quite cold and soaked all the way through. He sighed deeply. He did not have the will or the energy to get out of the rain. He stared at Marsac's grave a little longer. He always knew that, somewhere out there, Marsac was alive and probably going through everything he was going through. And in some strange ways, it was a small comfort. Yet now, with his own hand, he had rendered himself truly alone. A small part of the both of them had died in Savoy, but Marsac's obsession with it had eaten away what life remained in his heart; so when Aramis pulled the trigger he was shooting a man who was already dead.

Then there were his brothers. He understood d'Artagnan's reluctance to help him but there was no denying the boy had done what he could for Aramis. Aramis' stomach turned into a knot at the realisation that d'Artagnan, who had not known him very long, was willing to help, while Athos and Porthos merely stood by. They were supposed to be his friends, his brothers. He had known them for years and the fact that they had abandoned him… had taken Treville's side over his made him feel sick. He could feel his face contorting as the anger built up inside him. He felt betrayed, but worst of all he felt alone.

Aramis slowly backed away from Marsac's grave and turned away. He wondered, as he slowly walked in the rain, if he should go to his brothers. Would they comfort him? Would they apologise? Or would they simply go on as if nothing had happened? No, he decided, he would go drink on his own.

He walked slowly to the closest tavern, ignoring the droplets that had now grown bigger and the wind that blew them into his face. He was so lost in his anger and sadness that he miss-stepped and slipped in a puddle. He fell on his back into a pool of mud, soaking his body even more with icy water than it was before. He got up with an angry groan and tried to flick some of the mud off his hands and feet. By the time he got to the tavern he was carrying his hat, which had been reduced to a muddy rag, and his hair was a wet mop plastered to his forehead.

"A table near the fire monsieur?" The barmaid asked after taking in his muddy state.

"Thank you." He replied and followed her into the tavern.

He wasn't sure how long he had been seated but he still felt quite wet. He was sipping his wine slowly, no intention of drinking too much. He was listening to all the conversations going on around him, trying to take his mind off Marsac. One table was playing cards, another had a man flirting with the barmaid and the other table close to him had a very drunk man celebrating his birthday. He was showing off to his friends happily.

Aramis sighed, he wondered if he even still had friends. It was an odd thing, being alone. On the one hand there was no one to pass any judgement on him and on the other it made his chest ache with so much sadness he craved any kind of attention he could get. Aramis was startled out of his brooding when the drunken man from the third table tripped and fell next to him in an attempt to get more drink from the bar.

"Are you alright, monsieur?" Aramis asked him, a tiny bubble of amusement rising in his chest.

The man tried to stand up and growled as he dusted his hands off. Aramis watched as he swayed on his feet and could hear his friends laughing at him. He held out a hand to help the man straighten but the man shoved it away and looked at Aramis angrily.

"You tripped me!" The man yelled. He looked back at his friends and pointed at Aramis, "This man tripped me!"

Aramis watched as the man's friends all stopped laughing and stood up, clearly in the mood for a fight.

Aramis held his hands up passively, "I did no such thing, monsieur. Please allow me to buy you a drink."

But the man sneered and, with quite a lot of accuracy for a man in his state, punched Aramis hard on the side of his face. He fell off his chair and felt the man grab his wet uniform and yank him to his feet.

"Apologise!" The man yelled in his face as he shook him.

He heard someone yell, "Oi!" and the man was suddenly yanked away from him.

Aramis watched as Porthos shoved the man against the wall with enough force to match that of an angry bull.

"Don't touch him!" Porthos snarled at him and shoved him away, causing the man to land on the floor.

"That stupid Spanish scum tripped me," The man said and spat on the floor beside him.

"You will watch your mouth sir, otherwise my friend and I will happily shut it for you." A voice said from behind Aramis.

He turned to see Athos, whom he only then realised was holding him by his upper arm. When he glanced back the drunk man was squirming away from Porthos and hurrying back to his friends, who it seemed, had decided not to take their chances with the big man.

Porthos turned away to look at Aramis and his threatening expression slipped off his face to be replaced with a more neutral one.

"Are you alright?" He asked as he took in the muddy sight of his brother.

It was a strange feeling, being conflicted between diving into Porthos' arms or turning away in anger. But the feelings of abandonment, betrayal and anger were too fresh so Aramis yanked his shoulder away from Athos' grip and sat back down, ignoring his brothers completely.

"Aramis?" Athos asked as he and Porthos sat opposite him, "Why are you so wet my friend?"

"You would know," Aramis said scathingly, "if you were there. But you weren't."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Porthos asked.

Aramis simply glared at him and turned back to the fire, his attention going back to sipping his wine. He thought he heard Athos sigh but neither of his brothers said a word after they ordered drinks of their own. They sat in silence and it was poison. The fact that neither of them had even mentioned Marsac was adding wood to the burning flames in Aramis' heart. They did not even attempt to start a conversation with him and Aramis' grip on his wine tightened furiously. The silence between them became such a deafening presence; Aramis just had to escape its strangling clutch.

He banged his mug on the table and watched as Athos and Porthos both startled. He looked at them expectantly but they just sat there, staring at him.

"Ara-" Porthos started but stopped when Aramis got to his feet.

Aramis took his hat off the table and marched away from his brothers. He walked out the tavern, not daring to turn back. He knew if he did he would cave and stay, ask for their comfort. He didn't understand why they were being so silent about the whole matter. As he stepped out back into the rain he could not decide what had hurt him most; their continued silence or the fact that they had not even bothered to come after him.

The cold air was the only thing keeping him motivated to return to his room at the garrison. The rain had turned into a soft drizzle but succeeded in wetting him through once again. When he reached the garrison he started to feel like a bit of a fool for his actions and dared to look behind him to see if his brothers had indeed followed. They hadn't and Aramis felt his heart break just a little more and his anger return. Surely they had known how important this was to him? He still did not understand why they had left him to deal with this alone. Once inside, he removed his wet clothes and climbed into dry underclothes before getting to bed. He rested his head on his pillow, not caring that his hair was still wet.

He tried to sleep but was plagued by thoughts of Marsac. His mind, it seemed, was still wide awake. He turned on his side and shamefully wished one of his brothers were lying beside him. Curling in on himself as tightly as he could, he wasn't sure if the cold he was feeling was from the weather or from the snowy memories in his mind. By some miracle, he managed to fall asleep.

…

When Aramis woke he was lying in the same position on his side, with his arms wrapped around his knees. His mouth was terribly dry and he swallowed hard, which caused a sharp pain to go down his throat. Coughing a little, he sat up and groaned when he felt a sudden throbbing in his head. Swallowing again, he found the pain in his throat remained there. Sighing, he realised all the time spent in the rain the day before had made him sick. As he wiped his hands over his face, he realised he had been sweating in his sleep and decided a bath was in order.

He made his way down for breakfast after he bathed and dressed and found, with relief, he was one of the first to wake. Serge placed a bowl of hot oats in front of him and Aramis took a spoonful into his mouth. The oats did little to soothe his throat however, and he found himself suddenly losing his appetite. Not long after, Porthos joined him on the opposite side of the table.

"Morning." Porthos said and accepted his breakfast from Serge.

Aramis ignored him, not trusting what words would come out of him in anger and not trusting his own voice, which he was sure would come out croaky. Athos joined minutes later with instructions from Treville.

Treville, it seemed, had given them all patrol duties for the day. Aramis truly was not in the mood to patrol the streets, especially with Athos and Porthos, as he just knew they would try to talk to him. He felt a twinge of guilt at ignoring his brothers. He knew he was being childish but he still felt a large amount of anger towards them.

Aramis' grouchy mood was fuelled by his growing headache as they patrolled the streets. Athos and Porthos had tried a few times to engage him in conversation but he had simply ignored them. Eventually, they had stopped trying altogether and seemed to have grown sour themselves.

As the day progressed, Aramis was feeling worse. He had finished all his water hours before they were scheduled to end their patrol in an attempt to soothe his throat. He was too proud and too angry to say anything about how he was feeling and decided to simply suffer in silence.

When the end of the day came, the three inseparables found themselves at the garrison. Aramis made to head straight back for his room when he felt a hand grip his shoulder. He turned to find Athos staring at him, Porthos watching the exchange a few steps back with his arms folded and a frown on his face.

"We are going to the tavern, would you care to join us?" Athos asked him, as if he were merely being polite. They both knew what response Aramis would give him, or lack thereof.

Aramis shook Athos' hand off his shoulder and turned to head upstairs.

"Aramis," He heard Porthos say, "How much longer is this stupidity going to go on for?"

"Stupidity?" Aramis asked as he turned. He had tried to yell but winced at how gruff and weak his voice came out.

"You think what happened out there in that forest was stupid?" Aramis asked Porthos. He walked straight to his brother and shoved him back. Porthos barely even budged but relaxed his arms as they fell to his sides.

"That's not what I meant and you know it!" Porthos said back, raising his voice slightly, "and what is wrong with your voice?"

Aramis' reply was cut off by Athos placing his palm to Aramis' cheek. Aramis pulled back from him instantly, not taking his gaze from Porthos.

"You're a little warm, Aramis." Athos said, "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine!" Aramis snapped. He winced at the pain it had caused his throat and began to cough.

Porthos' expression changed from rage to concern in a flash and he closed the gap between him and his brother. He placed a hand on Aramis' back as if to soothe his coughing. Athos' hand retuned to feel Aramis' forehead this time but Aramis yanked himself away from both of them as soon as his coughing had abided.

"Oh now suddenly you care?" Aramis asked as loudly as his sore throat would allow.

Athos and Porthos had the decency to look ashamed of themselves. It was Porthos who decided to break the silence.

"Aramis," He said, "Please try to look at this from our perspective."

"Your perspective?" Aramis yelled, which came out scratchy and Porthos and Athos actually winced. He could see a few heads turn in their direction out of the corner of his eye.

"There was me and then there was Treville." Aramis continued, "And you chose him. You abandoned me!"

Porthos looked like he had been punched in the face and Athos rubbed a hand through his hair.

"Aramis please," Athos said, "This was not so black and white. You know that."

Aramis shook his head which only made his throbbing headache worse. He groaned and rubbed at his forehead with the tips of his fingers. He watched as Porthos stepped forward worriedly.

"Stay away from me!" Aramis snapped at them, which stopped Porthos in his tracks. "You don't get to decide to be my friend when it is only convenient to you."

He turned and marched up the steps to his room and slammed the door behind him as loudly as he could. He immediately felt like the biggest fool alive. He knew he had hurt them with the things he had said but he was far too stubborn to go back out and apologise. He looked out his window in time to see them both heading back out the garrison. Athos had a hand on Porthos' shoulder and Aramis felt his stomach drop. Porthos was such a kind person. Aramis knew Porthos would never truly abandon him. Instead of asking why they had not helped him more in a calm way like they would, he had yelled and let his anger get the better of him. He took a deep breath and realised how terrible he felt. He felt guilty but physically he felt absolutely wretched. His throat ached, his head hurt and he could feel his fever growing stronger.

As he got undressed he felt tears run down his face. The only true friends he had were the only people he wanted and needed right now and he had pushed them away. The look on Porthos' face when Aramis had accused them of abandoning him had broken his heart. Porthos was the most loyal man he knew. Yet this only added to Aramis' confusion. Why weren't they there? They hadn't even stood by him when he watched Marsac get buried.

Aramis climbed into his bed longing for comfort from his brothers. He wondered if he would ever get it again. He coughed a little more and winced as his coughing caused a shot of pain along his chest. He fell into a restless nightmare-plagued sleep.

Aramis wasn't sure how long he had been asleep when he woke again. It was his fever that had woken him. He was hot. Very hot. He threw his covers off his bed but it did little to help. He could feel the sweat running from his forehead. It made his hair stick to his head. The heat was inescapable and seemed to have spread through his entire body, right down to his toes. He had to get out of bed, away from its warmth. With all the grace of a drunken sailor he attempted to throw his legs over the bed. Only, instead of rendering him upright, like he had hoped, his legs pulled the rest of his body with them and he hit the floor beside his bed in a tangle of sheets and limbs.

He crawled away from the sheets and spread himself on his wooden floor, attempting to soak in the tiny amount of coolness it provided. He gazed at his door and wished he could just open it and let in some of that nice cold wind from earlier that day. With only one name on his lips, Aramis passed out on the floor.

"P'ths"

…

They had only had one mug of wine each before heading back. Porthos knew why Aramis was angry but he couldn't deny that his brothers' words had stung. Aramis was upset and when he was upset he refused to listen. Porthos climbed the stairs that lead to his room. He was glad that Aramis' room was just next door to his. He wanted to check on his brother. They could both hear Aramis was sick when he spoke for the first time that day, but did not want to upset his brother more by invading the space he clearly needed.

They hadn't been gone for a long time so he knew there was a strong possibility that Aramis was still awake. He gave a soft knock on the door but received no reply. Porthos sighed, in the back of his mind he knew Aramis would not answer regardless of whether he was asleep or awake. He turned and headed into his own room.

He began to undress when he heard a soft thud from next door. Porthos paused in removing his shirt and frowned. He pulled his shirt back down and stepped outside. He knocked again on Aramis' door and received no reply.

"Aramis?" Porthos asked, "You alright in there?"

When he got no reply Porthos felt his irritation from earlier start to build up again.

"A simple yes or no will suffice." Porthos tried again. He sighed and would have stepped away but he heard a soft mumble.

Porthos' worry increased and he tried to door handle, not caring if Aramis yelled at him about privacy. He turned it more when he found it was unlocked and opened the door, allowing the moonlight in.

"I'm coming in," He called, "you better not be naked."

His stomach dropped when he saw Aramis lying chest-down the floor. He bolted into the room and crouched beside his brother.

"Aramis?" He called to him frantically, "Aramis?"

When he got no response he turned Aramis over, drawing a breath in sharply as he felt how warm he was. Aramis gave a small groan at being moved and Porthos handled his brother with as much gentleness as he could, as if Aramis were made of glass. Once he had Aramis on his back he realised how pale and shaky his brother was. Even though Aramis appeared to be asleep, he was trembling slightly. Porthos gently patted Aramis' face and his worry increased when he got no reaction out of his brother.

"Aramis," Porthos tried again, "say something please."

Aramis groaned and opened his eyes a little. His eyes wandered all over the room as if he was not registering what he was seeing.

"'m hot." Aramis mumbled softly.

"I know my friend, I know," Porthos soothed, "I'm going to help you."

As gently as he could, Porthos lifted Aramis off the floor by placing a hand under his neck and an arm under his legs. He lowered Aramis back onto his bed and pushed him close to the wall, as far away from the edge as possible.

Porthos hurried to Athos' room to retrieve him. He banged on the door and, if the situation were not as serious, would have laughed at the menacing expression on his brother's face when he answered.

"What?" Athos snapped then relaxed his face when he saw it was Porthos. "What's wrong?"

"Aramis," Porthos said, his voice shaking, "He has a fever."

Athos followed Porthos back to Aramis' room. When they got there Porthos watched as Athos placed his palm on Aramis' cheek as he had done earlier that day.

Athos frowned, "We need to cool him down, now."

They found some rags in Aramis' draws and wet them. They wiped down his torso and arms, leaving a wet rag on his forehead. Every now and then Aramis would groan. This was how they spent the rest of the night. Aramis' fever had apparently taken his nightmares and distorted them. He called out for Marsac and Athos and Porthos, begging them not to leave him. Every time they would whisper in his ear to calm him down.

"Shhh," Porthos soothed, "We're right here and we're not going anywhere."

"It was stupid of us not to be there," Athos finally said as he replaced the rag on Aramis' head.

Porthos sighed and nodded his agreement, "We didn't even bother explaining ourselves. S' no wonder he's so angry. And we left him to bury Marsac alone. Who knows how long he stood there in the rain? I'll bet that's what made him sick."

Athos rested a hand on Porthos' shoulder, "He is going to be fine brother. His fever has already gone down quite significantly. Why don't we rest a little? We can talk about all of this tomorrow."

Porthos ran a hand down his face and nodded. They both fell asleep in their respective chairs. Ordinarily, they would have climbed in beside their brother but they did not want to add to the persistent heat that surrounded him. Porthos fell asleep to the sight of Athos carding his fingers through Aramis' hair and smiled. Athos always knew how to take care of them.

…

When Aramis woke it was to the feeling of something cool on his forehead and someone running their fingers through his hair. He opened his eyes to the bright morning light and he could hear a hushed conversation above him.

"Do you think he will need a physician?" One voice whispered.

"Honestly? I think he needs a punch in the face for being so damn stubborn." The other voice replied.

"Athos…"

"No. His fever is mostly gone and he's coughing a lot less. I believe he will be fine. Aramis?"

"He's awake!"

"Aramis can you hear me?" Athos' voice became a little clearer as his face came into focus above him.

Aramis groaned and rubbed at his temple.

"How do you feel?" He heard Porthos ask and he felt the mattress tilt a little as Porthos climbed on, "You almost ended me when I found you lying on the floor."

"Flo-or?" Aramis croaked out.

"Here, drink some of this." Athos said as he lifted Aramis' head and placed a mug to his lips, "It's water with honey. It will do your throat good."

Aramis sipped some and sighed at the instant relief it caused, spreading pure bliss down his throat. He wriggled a little to get himself higher on the pillow. His brothers immediately interpreted his need and Porthos lifted him under the arms easily as Athos added another pillow behind him.

"Thank you." He said softly. He remembered all the events of the previous two days and felt his face grow a little warm at his reactions. He felt a finger under his chin and looked up as Porthos lifted his head.

"You leave the brooding to Athos alright?" Porthos said with a smirk.

Aramis heard Athos snort. He looked at his brothers and opened his mouth to apologise but his voice betrayed him and the strain on it caused him to start coughing instead. Porthos immediately leaned him forward so that he could rub a hand soothingly up and down his back. As soon as he was done, Athos made him drink more of the honeyed water.

"I…" Aramis began, testing his voice out again, "I owe you two an apology."

They both shook their heads and Athos raised his hand to stop Aramis from talking further.

"I told you he would try apologising first." Porthos said with a sad smile, not taking his eyes away from Aramis.

"Aramis," Athos said, "It is we who owe you an apology. We left you to deal with all of this alone without even providing so much as a proper explanation. Will you please allow us to explain? Even if it is two days too late?"

Aramis nodded, although he didn't agree with the statement.

"We knew this was important to you," Porthos began, "It was important to us too although we have a rather poor way of showing it. You see, Athos and I have been with you since you came back from Savoy. We know how it haunts your dreams and we have heard you cry out in your sleep too often than not. You normally cry out his name, Aramis. And every night that you had to relive the moment when he left you only made us hate him even more."

Aramis tried to make sense of his brother's words but his foggy mind would not let him. However, something in Porthos' words was starting to shine a little light on their behaviour. As if seeing Aramis' internal struggle, Athos squeezed his arm.

"What Porthos is trying to say, Aramis, is that since Savoy, we don't think there is a man that we hated more than Marsac. When he returned you seemed so intent on helping him that we realised our hate towards him would do more harm than good. We never intended to take sides but in our minds there was Marsac – the man who had left you out in the snow, and there was Treville – our captain. And somehow, because of that, we forgot about you and how this was all affecting you. We never realised that you were feeling the same conflicting emotions we were. We wanted to stay away from the man that had hurt you because we simply didn't trust ourselves to be around him. The instant we saw him we wanted to punch him, passionately. We did not realise that by keeping our distance from Marsac, we were also keeping our distance from you. And for that, Aramis, we are truly sorry. And after Marsac died, we honestly assumed you wanted to be alone. Just as you sometimes do when thoughts of Savoy trouble you. We had not the slightest idea it was only causing you pain, causing you to resent us. Aramis, my dear friend, we apologise."

Aramis felt his chest tighten at his brother's words and the nod from Porthos. Of course they were angry with Marsac. It all made sense. If only he had seen it from their point of view. He looked down at his hands and felt a tear escape his eyes. The last two days had all been simply too much. He had gone from shooting a brother to thinking he had permanently pushed two away.

"Hey," He heard Porthos whisper, "Everything is going to be alright."

Aramis felt the mattress tilt again and suddenly Porthos was wrapping his arms around him. Porthos held him tightly and Aramis sniffled as a few more tears escaped. He rested his head on Porthos' chest and relaxed as he felt Porthos stroke his back. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be hugged, feeling better with every passing moment.

"Would you stop hogging him?" He heard Athos moan, "Just because I'm the brooding one of the three of us does not mean I am incapable of affection."

Porthos and Aramis chuckled as Pothos gently transferred Aramis into Athos' waiting arms. He sagged with even more relief as Athos hugged him and he felt Porthos run his fingers through his hair which made him sigh with relief.

"Don't you dare frighten us like that again," Athos whispered, "your fever was very high, Aramis."

"Sorry." Aramis mumbled.

"No need to apologise," Porthos said, "Just gave us a proper scare there."

"It was a foolish thought of mine." Aramis replied.

"What was?" Porthos asked.

"I thought that I had pushed you two away for good," Aramis admitted, "I thought I was completely alone."

"How very foolish indeed." Athos replied.


	4. Chapter 4

4

Hey guys, sorry for the delay. Thank you for all your kudos, comments and reviews they make me happy!

For this one I've gone with a request from Sharon on which was simply too delicious to ignore. This one is a little more light hearted than the previous three, hope you enjoy.

Aramis is having a bad day. Porthos just wishes he would admit to it.

…

By the time the sun had started rising, Aramis was lying in bed staring at the ceiling. He had next to no sleep and now had to get up and be a valiant King's Musketeer. He groaned and slowly sat up, trying his best to ignore the small throbbing behind his forehead from lack of sleep. He took his time bathing and getting dressed. He noticed he had a hole in his shirt and rolled his eyes as he took it off to mend it.

While Aramis was stitching the hole, his mind drifted to Porthos and what the larger man would say if he saw Aramis stitching clothing. Aramis grinned to himself, Porthos always teased that he could be a good seamstress. Porthos… Aramis frowned as he tied a knot in the thread. There was something he had to remember, something Porthos had told him about that was important.

With a jolt of realisation, Aramis dove off his chair and threw his shirt on, pricking himself with his needle in the process. He was supposed to be in Treville's office. Their captain had asked them to see him early, as soon as the sun had risen. He was late, very late.

Aramis threw his door open and dashed down the stairs, trying not to think of Treville yelling at him in front of everyone. His foot skipped a step and he tumbled down the last two and skidded on his chest in the dirt on the ground. He groaned in annoyance as he stood up, trying and failing to dust his now filthy shirt. He looked around the garrison and felt a little relieved when he saw that there was no one near to have witnessed his embarrassing tumble.

He bolted towards the stairs that lead to Treville's office and forced himself to calm down, lest he fall again. He took a deep breath and opened the door. Four faces turned to look at him. Athos glared at him then raised an eyebrow as his eyes fell to Aramis' shirt. d'Artagnan looked at him sympathetically and Porthos looked like Aramis was the last person on Earth he had expected to walk through the door. Treville's face however, was pure granite and he straightened his back and glared at Aramis as if he had just declared war on France.

"Aramis," Treville said, "kind of you to join us."

Porthos looked like he was about to say something but Aramis spoke before he had the chance.

"I'm sorry sir…" Aramis mumbled, trying his best innocent face, "I had a hole in my shirt."

Porthos raised a hand to cover his face in obvious frustration. Athos looked at Aramis as though he had grown another head and d'Artagnan looked like he was about to explode from the pressure of keeping his laughter in.

"You had a hole in your shirt?" Treville repeated flatly, "Funny, Porthos was just telling me how you weren't feeling well this morning and was going to relay the meeting to you once we were done."

Aramis felt his stomach drop. They always made excuses for each other, he should have assumed as much before he stepped in. Porthos, who was taller than the captain, actually managed to cringe and look apologetic when Treville's stony expression turned to him.

"I'm going to see the King," Treville stated flatly, not removing his glare from Aramis, "See to it that Aramis gets the orders for the day."

He walked around his desk and took his leave.

"A hole in your shirt, Aramis?" Athos snapped once the captain was gone, "Surely even you can come up with a better excuse than that! Which married woman was it this time?"

"I forgot alright!" Aramis snapped back, "And there was no woman, but my shirt did really have a hole!"

Porthos sighed and shook his head, "You should have stayed in your room, I had already covered for you."

Aramis lowered his head in shame, "I'm sorry."

"What happened to you?" d'Artagnan asked, "You're full of dirt."

Aramis took a deep breath, "I fell down the stairs."

"You what?" Porthos asked, stepping closer and searching Aramis for any possible injury, "Are you alright? Did you get hurt?"

Aramis shook his head, "No, I didn't fall far."

"We're on patrol today." Athos stated, "You're with Porthos. d'Artagnan and I will be patrolling the other side of the city and don't roll your eyes you're lucky Treville didn't make you shovel horse manure the whole day."

Aramis sighed and he left with Porthos to get a new shirt from his room and put on the rest of his uniform. When they finally made it to their assigned streets they were walking in a peaceful silence until Aramis heard Porthos chuckle softly.

"What?" Aramis asked, knowing exactly where this was going.

"I can't believe you used that excuse, seriously Aramis." Porthos said with a smile on his face.

Aramis looked ahead, surveying the busy streets, watching as people went in and out of the different shops.

"Well, it was true." He answered.

Porthos merely shook his head smiling, and patted Aramis' shoulder lightly.

The sun was rather harsh and Aramis could feel sweat trickling down the back of his neck. He looked up to Porthos walking beside him and could tell the man was also uncomfortable in the heat.

"Should we stop for a few seconds and stand in the shade a bit?" Aramis asked.

Porthos nodded and they found themselves standing against a wall beside a horse and cart, enjoying the blessed coolness of the shade. They both sighed in relief and watched the people go about their daily routines. Aramis felt something tug on his head and looked beside him to see that the horse had stolen his hat and was beginning to chew on it happily.

"Hey!" Aramis yelled and tried to grab it back. The horse simply lifted its head and moved it out of the way of Aramis' reach. Aramis reached and reached for it, but the horse dodged him every time. He was distinctly aware of Porthos' laughter behind him.

Aramis turned to glare at his brother, "A little help?"

"Oh but you're doing so well on your own, little brother."

Aramis' glare was full force; Porthos knew that Aramis hated being called 'little'.

Porthos was all smiles but eventually he gave in, "Alright, alright, don't go getting any holes in your shirt over it."

"That's not funny!" Aramis yelled, though he felt himself smile a little at the laughter coming from his brother.

Porthos reached over Aramis' head and grabbed the hat easily. Only the horse wouldn't budge. It dug its teeth deeper into the hat and yanked, giving a loud whinny of frustration. Porthos did not budge however and the entire scenario would have been amusing if Aramis hadn't suddenly heard an indistinguishable tear. Porthos ended up with most of Aramis' hat but the horse had a decent chunk in its mouth and began to chew it in victory.

"Sorry," Porthos said, holding the remnants of Aramis' beloved hat in his hand. He looked genuinely apologetic and Aramis felt his heart drop. That was his only hat and he felt frustration grow in the pit of his stomach.

"It's not your fault," Aramis said, patting Porthos' arm, "Thanks for trying."

He took what was left of his hat and tossed it to the ground by the horse, figuring the stupid beast might as well just eat what was left of the now useless material. Aramis looked at Porthos who had a tiny smile growing on his face which he was clearly straining to suppress.

"It is a little funny though," Porthos said cautiously.

Aramis dropped his shoulders in surrender, allowing a small grin on his face, "Yes, but only a little."

Porthos placed a hand on his shoulder and guided them back to the street, "Let's get back to patrol."

They walked in a comfortable silence for all of five minutes until Aramis almost broke his neck tripping over a rock jutting out of the road. Were it not for Porthos' reflexes, Aramis would have fallen for the second time that day.

"Who put that stupid rock there?" Aramis asked, slowly starting to come to terms that today was not his day.

Porthos chuckled as he helped Aramis straighten, "I'll bet the Cardinal placed it there just for you, brother."

Aramis glared at him and they continued walking.

"I have a theory," Porthos said.

"Oh?" Aramis replied, scanning the crowd ahead of them.

"Yeah," Porthos said, "I think you're just having a bad day, Aramis."

"A bad day?" Aramis asked, though he knew the words were true, "I don't have bad days."

Porthos huffed, "Everyone has a bad day once in a while. Yours just happens to be today. Maybe you just need a hug."

"Nonsense," Aramis said, "Today is a normal day, just like any other."

Aramis could feel Porthos smiling at him. They both knew how stubborn Aramis was.

The heat was unforgivable, especially without a hat. Aramis could feel his hair growing damp from sweat and hoped the day would go by fast. They had been walking another two hours when Aramis finally realised his face was getting sun burnt. He groaned inwardly and started to search the streets for something, anything that would make the day eventful and provide a good distraction. Why couldn't someone just rob a shop or something?

He mentally scolded himself for the thought and decided that a quiet day was a rare gift, especially for was pulled from his thoughts when he felt a weight on his head and felt his face being covered in shade. Aramis looked up at Porthos who had just placed his hat on Aramis' head. He lifted a brow in question.

"I can smell you roasting," Porthos explained with a grin on his face.

"But don't you need it?" Aramis asked, not liking the idea of taking Porthos' shade from him.

"Not as much as you, mate." Porthos said, "Besides, you look terrible, wouldn't want to chase the women away with that face."

Aramis rolled his eyes, "I would never chase women away, that is impossible."

Porthos chuckled and they continued walking.

"Thank you," Aramis said, "I'll return it to you in a few minutes."

"No need," Porthos answered cheerfully.

The streets began to quieten as the day drew to a close, and eventually they made their way back to the garrison. Aramis reached up to return Porthos' hat and the man chuckled lightly at the strain it took for Aramis to reach. They were near the garrison when a lovely young brunette marched up to them.

"Aramis?" She asked, raising a thin eyebrow at him in a scolding way.

Aramis thought she looked a little familiar, "Y-yes?"

She slapped him hard across the face, causing his sunburn to sting.

Before he even had a chance to ask her what her problem was she was yelling at him, "You said you would visit me for my birthday! You promised! And what did I find out this morning while visiting my friend Angelique? That you were with her! On my birthday!"

Aramis stood there a little befuddled, "I'm so sorry, um…"

She slapped him again, "Chantelle! My name is Chantelle!"

She shoved him away and marched back up the street. Aramis watched her with his mouth hanging open slightly. He could hear Porthos laughing next to him.

"You should at least try to keep track, Aramis." He laughed harder at the look Aramis gave him.

"Just admit it," Porthos said again, "You're having a terrible day."

"No!" Aramis snapped and marched ahead into the garrison.

…

Aramis found himself in his room an hour later, removing his uniform and stained pants. He and Porthos had met up with Athos and d'Artagnan to give Treville a verbal report of their patrol duties that day. Aramis had accidently knocked over a bottle of ink on the captain's desk and it poured all over the floor and on Aramis' pants.

"Just… go." Treville dismissed them all with an exasperated voice and Athos had all but pushed Aramis out of his office while he spluttered apologies. Treville had merely shaken his head at them, too exhausted from the blabbering of the King to honestly care.

Aramis decided to go pay his horse a visit in the stables, his mare always made him feel better. He brought her an apple which she was now happily chewing while he patted her.

"See?" Aramis mumbled to her, "Horses are supposed to eat apples, not hats."

"You always spoil that horse." Said a voice behind him

Porthos' voice startled him and as he turned around he hit his face on a wooden beam and yelled out a string of creative curses, that would have made Athos proud, as he rubbed his temple. He heard a small laugh from his brother and brought his hand away from his throbbing forehead. Porthos was standing there with a smile on his face, shaking his head.

Aramis sighed dramatically, "Can you believe this?"

Porthos shook his head, still laughing, "I know, who would put a wooden beam so low that it would be in the way of your head?"

Aramis shot him a look, "That's not funny and I am not the shortest person in the garrison!"

Porthos continued to laugh and opened his arms toward Aramis, "You ready for that hug yet?"

Aramis narrowed his eyes, "No, today is not a bad day; it is a normal day just like any other day."

He marched past his laughing brother and went to sit down at one of the tables to wait for whatever dinner Serge was cooking up. Porthos sat beside him seconds later and they were eventually joined by Athos and d'Artagnan.

"Aramis," Athos said, "Why is your face so read?"

"Ahorseatemyhat." Aramis mumbled quickly.

Athos looked on the verge of smiling, "What was that?"

"A horse," Aramis stated flatly knowing his brother had understood him, "ate my… hat."

d'Artagnan burst out laughing almost choking on the water he was sipping. Athos and Porthos sat there chuckling a little at Aramis' expense.

Aramis was getting annoyed, "Well, walking in the sun all day, getting slapped twice and getting wacked in the face with a wooden beam does tend to give a man a red face."

His brothers were laughing harder now and Aramis gave each of them an equally menacing glare over his mug of water.

"What's so funny," Serge asked as he handed them all a plate of stew.

"Aramis, it seems, is having a rather miserable day," Athos answered, accepting his food from Serge.

"You gotta have bad days to get to the good days." Serge said and went along to one of the other tables to feed more hungry musketeers.

"He's got a point," d'Artagnan stated, tucking into his food happily.

"Perhaps he would," Aramis said, "If it were a miserable day… but alas it is not, therefore what he said is irrelevant."

He received no reply other than three sets of eyebrows shooting up simultaneously in obvious disagreement. Aramis sighed and tucked into his food. As he ate, he steadily lost his appetite. His brothers may have found his red face amusing but Aramis was starting to get his headache back from being in the sun all day.

"You should put some salve on your skin," Athos said to him once they were done eating, "It will help to take the sensitivity away."

"What? No," Porthos said, "Then he won't look like an adorable little lobster anymore."

d'Artagnan broke out into another fit of giggles and Aramis stole Porthos' hat from his head and wacked him with it. Even Athos started laughing after that.

"How do you know it's sensitive?" Aramis asked.

Athos looked at him knowingly, "Have you looked at yourself in a mirror Aramis? It looks rather painful."

Porthos patted his head softly, "Sorry, I should have given you my hat earlier."

"Don't be silly," Aramis said, "I think I'm just going to go straight to bed before I accidently light the Garrison on fire or something."

As Aramis got up, Porthos raised a brow, "Does that mean you're admitting to having a bad day?"

"No!"

…

Aramis did look at himself in a mirror when he got to his room. Athos was right, he looked as bad as he felt. He found some cream to put on his face which was actually rather soothing. Deciding that nothing could possibly go wrong if he just sat on his bed and read a little, he took out one of his favourite poetry books and began to go through all his favourite ones.

His concentration did not last however, as his headache thrummed underneath his skull and he tossed the book away, utterly frustrated with himself. He heard a shuffle in the room next door to his and realised Porthos must have called it a night too. Aramis was tempted to go visit him but he refused to give in. Deciding that fresh air would do him some good, he crossed the room to open his window, only to slip the book he had just tossed on the floor and landed on his hands and knees.

"Seriously?" He said to himself, "Again?"

He stood up and dusted himself off, finally caving. He yanked his door open and marched to Porthos'. He knocked on the door and Porthos opened it, peering at him from inside. The look on Aramis' face must have said it all because he merely held his arms open, not uttering a single word. Aramis all but dived into Porthos' arms, shoving his face into Porthos' neck and chest, under his chin. He wrapped his arms tightly around Porthos who responded by tightening his own. Aramis sighed blissfully and relaxed for the first time that day. Nothing bad would happen to him with Porthos holding him. As Aramis felt Porthos rubbing circles on his back, he closed his eyes.

"I'm having a bad day," he mumbled into Porthos' shirt.

"I know." Porthos answered, placing a soft kiss to Aramis' temple.


	5. Chapter 5

5

Hello everyone! Apologies again for the delay, I'm actually having internet problems and thus cannot update when I would prefer.

Again, thank you for all the love! It makes my knees weak!

When I read the lovely prompt from QuestionableSanity on AO3 I simply could not resist. Thank you so much for it, and all the details! I'm sorry you were so exhausted from your experience and hope you recovered promptly. Enjoy my friend, this is for you.

…

Aramis stood obediently behind the nobles as they descended from the ship and onto the dock. The wife of one of the noblemen gave him a shy smile and waved at him before she turned her back. He smiled back, forced and polite, because he had to. He had to keep them happy, he had to entertain them and he had to keep them safe. The journey on the boat was merely two weeks but he felt as if it were two months. He had been forced to entertain the wives when they flirted shamelessly with him. He politely declined their offers for him to take them to bed (there's not much distance to run from an angry husband on board a ship); he used the excuse of not having his own room. None the less he felt thoroughly used. There's not much to do on a ship if you do not find the sight of the sea appealing, thus the nobles complained endlessly until they found something with which to entertain themselves.

And so Aramis had found himself purposefully losing at games of cards, watching the ridiculous plays that the nobles' children had performed and fake- duelling the two other musketeers that had been sent with him. Not only was he exhausted from being an entertainer, one teenage girl in particular had decided that he should be on her beck and call every time she decided to glance over the edge of the ship to look for dolphins (which was often).

"If I fall will you catch me?" She had asked, looking at Aramis with big dreamy eyes, clearly quite taken with him.

"Of course, madam." He would reply politely, every time.

At one point she did pretend she was about to leap overboard just so that Aramis would run to her and grab her by the waste, pulling her back down. She then pretended to swoon and clutched onto him. Aramis gently but firmly extracted her arms from around him and sent her to her parents. When she was out of ear shot he groaned loudly, wondering if the trip was ever going to come to an end.

He didn't understand why the captain had not at least sent Athos and Porthos with him. At least they would have been able to keep him company. As he watched to nobles get off the ship he suddenly felt a deep yearning for his brothers' company. He had kept this longing at bay for most of those two weeks (one week to their city and one back) but now he was starting to feel his control slip. He swallowed and forced his body to stiffen, knowing that neither the King nor Treville would appreciate it if he crumbled in front of the King's important political friends.

It was not only the tiresome act of keeping people happy though. He had been expected to perform some manual labour on the ship. Such as sweeping the room he was sharing with about ten other men, as well as scrubbing parts of the ship for about four hours a day. He was expected to wake at sunset to assist in cleaning the ship before the nobles woke. Every. Single. Day. For. Two. Weeks. Not that waking up was the problem; he had received hardly any sleep because the hammock which was assigned to him was extremely uncomfortable and the jostling of the ship did not help either.

The salt water was in his hair and his lips were dry and cracked. The food which was served to him on the ship was often fowl and he could hardly stomach more than five bites at a time. Thus, his uniform was sitting a little more loosely than when he left. He wanted a nice warm bath, to rid his body of the chill from the sea air. He was hungry for a real meal and longed for a decent night's rest in a proper bed.

Watching the backs of the nobles leaving his care would have been a massive relief were it not for the fact that he still had to journey all the way back to Paris, which would take about five days. He was lonely. Frightfully so. The other two musketeers that were on board with him were younger, new recruits and shared a bond quite like he did with Athos and Porthos. Therefore they often ventured on their own, leaving Aramis once their daily duties were complete. At least now the nobles were being escorted to the King's Palace by a separate guard and Aramis could sleep in an inn before starting his journey back. He knew there was no set date for his arrival and that he would have to stop each night on his journey to either camp or find lodging but he wished he could stay in bed for three days, under the covers and far away from the world. The other two musketeers were starting their journey back at once, and though they offered for Aramis to come with, he knew his body would not cope with being on a horse now.

He grimaced at the thought. Was he getting old? Too old to keep up with new recruits? He snubbed his musings with the realisation that they had done less than half the work he had. It was not their fault, the nobles simply demanded his attention over the others.

Aramis looked apprehensively at the broad ramp connecting the ship to the dock. He just had to descend it and find an inn, which would lead to a bed, then he could let go. He swallowed and flinched at how raw his throat was. All the salty air and forced laughter at the nobles' terrible jokes had left his throat sore and overused. He cleared his throat and descended, forcing himself to control his legs and not give in… not yet.

Once he was on the dock he began his walk down the street of the city. He watched the people ahead of him. They moved around him, bumped into him as if he was invisible. He envied the way their legs moved determinedly around the busy street, strong, steady. He stared ahead blankly but came to a halt when he noticed two men a few meters ahead of him. They were standing there, in the middle of the road, watching him, waiting for him, smiling at him. Athos and Porthos were there, for him, waiting.

Aramis blinked in disbelief. Was he hallucinating? Why would they be there? Why would they be five days away from Paris? Aramis began to walk towards them, not taking his eyes off their faces. His body suddenly ached with the need to feel their arms around him. To feel safe and let go.

As he neared them he noticed the smiles simultaneously fall off their faces, like the sun dropping from the sky. It was comical and unnerving at the same time. Why did they suddenly look to unhappy? Something must have happened… why else would they travel all this way?

They started walking towards him determinedly and when they reached each other they were both staring at him as if he had just announced he had fallen in love with a mermaid on his journey. Neither of them said anything as they glanced at one another then back at him.

"Wh…What," Aramis tried. He cleared his throat, "What.. you doing here?"

He flinched at how awful he sounded.

"We're here for you Aramis," Athos said, his voice sounded strange, almost as if he were straining himself, "We thought you would want to travel back to Paris with us. Treville granted us leave."

Porthos smiled at him, forced and painful, "We were getting restless and Treville was losing his patience with us. He kept saying he would never separate us again. Claimed Athos and I were 'acting out'. He sent us here to meet you."

Aramis frowned at them, his vision was starting to lose its focus, "You're really here?" He asked because he was not entirely sure himself.

Athos rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it tightly, "Of course."

The relief Aramis felt must have shown plainly on his face as Porthos promptly opened his arms. Aramis stared at his face, then his chest and let out a soft whine as Athos nudged him gently towards Porthos. Aramis all but flung himself into Porthos' waiting arms and sighed with relief when Porthos tightened his hold on Aramis. The hug was so soothing and warm that Aramis let a sob escape his lips. He felt Athos rubbing his back gently and realised that Porthos was the only thing keeping him standing.

When Porthos tried to gently pull away Aramis clung to him with his remaining strength and the larger man let out a soft chuckle.

"Let us get you into an inn yeah?" Porthos said softly and Athos promptly squeezed his shoulder again.

It took all of Aramis' willpower to pull away and stand on his own legs. He tried to answer in agreement but all that came out was a strained, choking sound and he merely resorted to nodding instead.

They lead him to an inn. Athos had one hand under Aramis' arm and Porthos had a hand under the other. People glanced at him as they walked; obviously thinking he had had too much to drink. When he tried to voice as much a very pitiful sound came through his throat instead of the words and both Athos and Porthos squeezed his arms in response. They took up a lot of space, the three of them walking next to each other, and if anyone came too close or voiced their annoyance Athos would give them a burning glare, hot enough to melt the snow in the middle of winter.

The inn was warmer than outside but Aramis found that he had begun to shake none the less. Athos stepped forward to get them a room and Porthos promptly put an arm around Aramis' shoulders, rubbing his hand up and down in an attempt to warm him.

The trip up the stairs was strenuous and by the time they were halfway up, Porthos slid his arm back around Aramis, under his arms, and bent down to lift his legs. Being carried by Porthos was immediately soothing but Aramis did not voice this, could not even voice it if he wanted to.

"Hmmf…" Porthos mumbled and looked down at Aramis in his arms and gave a gentle squeeze. His brows were furrowed and Aramis stared up at him, anchored by his familiar friendly face.

"What is it?" He heard Athos ask from a few steps above them, he sounded worried.

"He's lost weight." Porthos stated, not taking his eyes away from Aramis', "You have haven't you?"

Aramis tried to answer but couldn't. He swallowed and groaned in frustration when he opened his mouth and nothing came out.

Porthos' expression softened instantly and he smiled down at Aramis, "Don't worry. Athos and I will get you back to your usual self in no time. Won't we?" His eyes moved from Aramis' and up to Athos'.

Aramis turned to look at Athos who was staring at him with more concern Aramis had ever seen on his face. He must have truly looked terrible, but they really didn't need to worry so much.

"Of course," Athos said, "We are going to take care of you, Aramis."

Aramis felt warmth emerge in his belly. To see Athos looking at anyone with such open care was always a rare sight to behold, but when it was directed at him he always felt like he was seeing something in Athos that hardly anyone ever did. It made him feel… special.

Their room was large. It had two double beds and a wooden bath in one corner. The beds looked so warm and inviting that Aramis' heart fluttered in anticipation. But there was one thing he longed for more. He wanted to be clean. He wanted the sea out of his hair, off his skin. He wanted to feel warm water, not the splash of freezing waves. When Porthos gently lowered him into a sitting position on one of the beds Aramis looked longingly behind him at the empty bath.

Porthos kneeled in front of Aramis and started undoing the laces of his boots. Aramis felt a hand ruffle his tangled hair and looked up to Athos who was studying him carefully.

"What is it?" Athos asked softly, "What do you need?"

Aramis looked back at the bath, "I… I nee… cle… pl… please." Aramis groaned in annoyance at his inability to form a clear sentence and placed a hand over his face in embarrassment.

He felt Porthos rest a hand on his leg, "Hey, none of that now. No beating yourself up alright? Just take it slow and easy. Athos and I aren't going anywhere."

Athos gently removed Aramis' hand from his face and swiped some of the salty hair out of his eyes, "A bath? Would you like to bath?"

Aramis' eyes widened in surprise at Athos understanding him. He nodded vigorously and Athos smiled, "I'll be right back." He said and left the room.

Aramis looked at Porthos who was now undoing his jacket. Porthos smiled at him and planted a soft kiss to Aramis' forehead, "Let us take care of you yeah?"

Aramis nodded and slouched forward a little. He felt as though he could sleep right there, in his sitting position. The comfort of just being in the same room as Porthos was seeping through his skin like warm tea on a winter's night. Athos returned to the room along with the inn keeper, his wife and son. They were all carrying buckets of hot water and Aramis looked at them longingly. The innkeeper and Athos both made three more trips until it was just the three of them in the room again.

Athos and Porthos filled the bath with the last two buckets of hot water and Aramis began to get undressed. Athos and Porthos waited for him patiently by the bath and Aramis could have sworn he saw Porthos stick his arm in the water to make sure it wasn't too hot first. He removed his small clothes and stepped towards the bath. Porthos was holding out a hand to help him get in and when he put the first foot in, he sighed in deep relief. Porthos chuckled and helped him in the rest of the way, gently lowering him into the water. There was no shame when it came to this, they had all seen each other nude; whether from injury or being forced to occupy tents together during missions.

With that in mind, Aramis could not understand why his brothers were looking at him with frowns on their faces. He looked at them curiously and watched them exchange a glance.

"We can see your ribs, Aramis." Athos provided, sensing Aramis' confusion, "Did they not provide you with enough food?"

He sounded angry and sad and shared another glance with Porthos. Aramis bit his lip and shook his head.

"Food was just that bad huh? Or you just lost your appetite?" Porthos asked and tilted his head when Aramis nodded to confirm what he said.

"I bet they kept you busy too didn't they?" Porthos asked and it was not a question that needed an answer, "They put you under a lot of stress, huh?"

Aramis looked down and sighed. His brothers could read him like an open book.

"Never mind," Athos said, "You're with us now and we will watch over you. Relax and rest your body."

Athos' words made Aramis wonder how he had even lasted that long without the two of them. He leaned back in the bath and closed his eyes. His expression must have been that of pure bliss because he heard Porthos chuckle. He opened his eyes, looked at his brothers and smiled properly for the first time in two weeks.

"I… Tha… thank.." He tried and frowned at the strain it took just to make those half-words.

"Hush," Athos said, "There's no need to thank us, just enjoy yourself and settle back. I'm going to make a fire so that you don't step into the cold from your bath, we don't want you getting sick now. Then I'm going to get some food for us alright?"

Aramis nodded and smiled his agreement, it sounded like a good plan, wonderful even. Aramis merely sat there soaking in the warmth of the water and Porthos knelt down beside the bath and watched the now growing fire. Aramis smiled, Athos was very strategical when it came to caring for someone, a man of action. Porthos on the other hand was very physical, keeping his proximity regular, not leaving Aramis' side until he was absolutely sure he would be alright. They were the perfect balance, both caring just as much as each other but in their own ways.

Once Aramis was warm down to his toes he decided he needed to do something with the mop on his head. He gradually lowered himself into the water more and more until he was completely submerged. The sensation was pleasant for the split second it lasted before Porthos grabbed him by the arms and pulled him back up.

"Aramis?" He said, looking startled, "What the hell are you doing?"

Aramis looked at him, confused at first, then realised he should have probably given Porthos some kind of warning before going under. He smiled apologetically and tapped his hair with his hands.

Porthos' expression changed from confused to understanding and he smiled and shook his head.

"You're going to be the death of me." He chuckled, "You want me to wash your hair?"

Aramis nodded and smiled and Porthos gently began to soap up Aramis' hair. Athos chose that moment to enter the room and smiled at the two of them. He was carrying a tray with three bowls of stew that smelled absolutely heavenly and Aramis felt his stomach grumble. Porthos was massaging his head and if he wasn't so hungry he would have fallen asleep right there.

"Are you almost done?" Athos asked, "I wouldn't want this to get cold."

"Almost," Porthos answered and begun rinsing Aramis' hair, "I swear a mermaid came out of his hair just now."

Aramis giggled and Athos shook his head, smiling. Once Aramis' hair was thoroughly clean of soap, and more importantly salt, Porthos helped him stand up in the bath. The sudden vertical orientation of his body made him dizzy and if it weren't for Porthos gripping him tightly he would have fallen rather ungracefully out of the tub.

"Easy," Porthos said, "I've got you."

Athos brought a towel and wrapped it around Aramis after he stepped out the bath. Once he was dry they helped him dress into his night clothes and Porthos kept his iron grip on Aramis the entire time.

"You alright Réne?" Porthos asked once they were done. His use of Aramis' first name meant he was being dead serious and would not welcome any lying.

Aramis looked at him sadly and tried to answer, "I… I will … I will be."

"Yes you will," Athos said as if his word was final. And it was, it always was.

They helped Aramis into the middle of one of the beds. Athos handed him a bowl of stew and he and Porthos sat on either side of him. The stew was delicious and warmed him up from the inside, where the bath water did not reach. He managed to eat most of it but simply could not finish it for the sheer exhaustion that had been seeping into his eyes and mind all day was finally starting to take over.

Someone, he wasn't sure who, took his bowl away from him and he was gently lowered back against a pillow. He looked to his right and saw Athos go to the other bed to pull the blankets off it. As he was throwing the extra blankets on their bed, Aramis looked to his other side to find Porthos lying beside him, watching him intently with a warm smile on his face. Aramis rolled over and all but landed on top of Porthos, resting his head on his chest. This was what he needed, what he had been waiting for. Now, he could let go.

Porthos chuckled and wrapped his arms around Aramis, keeping him warm and protected. Before Aramis' eyelids won their battle he felt Athos climb in behind him and rest a hand on his back, rubbing warm circles as he had done earlier that day. Aramis sighed happily and closed his eyes. His brothers were with him, he was warm, he was safe. He was not alone.


	6. Chapter 6

… and the one time someone just needed to hold him.

Warnings for this one: a scene of gore/blood not too heavy in detail though.

…

Athos was only slightly aware of how cold his feet were as he manoeuvred through the thick snow. His heart was pounding in his chest as he led his horse with Treville close by, only a few steps behind him.

"Athos," He heard Treville say from behind him, "Athos stop."

Athos stopped but did not turn to face his captain. He took a deep breath and the cold air stung his nose. He slowed down the thickness in his throat as his heart did a backflip.

"Perhaps you should stay here." Treville continued, "Let me go ahead."

"I will go with you." Athos said, his voice flat and decisive. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath.

"You heard what that hunter said. You heard what he found."

"I will go with you."

Athos moved his legs again and carried on. He stared ahead and as he walked he heard the captain walking behind him. His horse was leaving soft clouds of breath in front of his face, the smell of it grassy and unpleasant but it was warm all the same.

The trees were growing slightly thicker and Athos knew they were close. There was a silence in the atmosphere now, hanging from the branches like a warning of death for trespassers. Athos looked down at his feet as they worked the snow. His breathing was quickening and he could feel his chest tightening up. He watched his feet move, one then the other, detached as if he were dreaming. He should not have come. Treville was right. Athos was a walking contradiction. He told Porthos not to come, thinking he could not handle it but it was himself who could not. He was going to break down any minute now and Treville would have to witness him crumble.

Then his foot landed in red snow and he stared at it for a bit. How odd. Why would snow be red? He felt a firm hand on his shoulder and his eyes shot up in realisation. They had arrived. The horses became agitated and stepped back from the death before them. Athos felt his stomach tighten as he gazed at the bit of forest that lay ahead of them. There were dead men, everywhere, massacred. They laid unceremoniously over one another, with the occasional body being pecked at by crows. Treville said nothing, but his grip remained tight.

Athos stepped away, grabbed onto a tree and emptied what little was in his stomach, the little that he had been able to eat in the past few days. He heard Treville moving behind him and when Athos turned he saw that he was tying the horses up, his face as white as the snowy sky above them.

They had to walk around the campsite at first, to take it all in. Athos avoided looking at their faces; he did not want to find that one face in there. He couldn't. He did not want to find him. It was Treville who eventually started to move them. He grabbed the arms of the closest body and pulled it aside. They laid them beside one another in rows. The name of each musketeer was called out by Treville, who recognised their faces easily, who remembered their names, even the newer recruits who had excitedly joined the training exercise.

Athos dragged one body to start a new row, turning his back to Treville. He examined the man's face and frowned in sadness when he recognised him. It was a young man who had just joined, who had eagerly absorbed every word of advice Athos had given him. As he worked he listened to Treville reciting the names as if taking attendance.

"Allard. Alexandre. Bastien. Clotaire. Edgard. Aramis."

Athos whipped around and stared at the body Treville was now laying down. He bolted to his side and Treville looked at him with sad eyes.

Athos dropped to his knees beside his brother and stared at his snow white face. Aramis' eyes were parted slightly, they no longer had their beautiful shine; the once tawny gems were now a dark brown-grey. Athos gently closed them. He lifted Aramis up and held him tightly, burying his face in the frozen icicles that were once his hair. Athos cried cold tears and with a loud sob he wondered if he would ever be warm again, if summer would ever come again. Surely the world had lost its sun? Surely there would never be a happy warm summer's day again? How could there possible be? How could a world without Aramis ever be happy again? He choked on his sobs as he held tightly onto his brother. What was he going to say to Porthos? How was he going to go home without Aramis by his side? Porthos would be there waiting for him. Waiting for them.

Athos clutched onto Aramis even as Treville tried to pry him away.

…

Athos gasped awake and sobbed in sorrow. His face was wet with tears. He sat up crying and searched the bundle of sheets on his lap for his brother. His arms ached with the emptiness between his them and he got up from his bed, running a hand over his face. He needed to feel him, alive and healthy. He needed to know he was alright.

Athos threw his coat over his shoulders and walked down the row of rooms in the garrison. He walked straight past Aramis' room. He knew he would never find him there. When he reached the door to the room he desired, he took a deep breath and tried to pull himself together. He turned the knob and smiled as the door creaked open softly.

Athos stepped in the room and was completely unsurprised by the scene before him. Porthos was sleeping closest to the wall, an arm wound tightly around Aramis, who was sleeping with his head on Porthos' chest. Athos smiled as he closed the door and stepped towards them. He sat down softly on the bed, as quietly as he was able. Aramis seemed to have felt the mattress sink slightly as he let out a soft groan. Porthos' arm tightened even more around him protectively and Aramis burrowed his face further into Porthos' sleep shirt.

Athos grinned broadly and ran his fingers through Aramis' hair, relieved to feel its warm thickness and not the frozen, grassy texture that Athos had dreamt of moments before. Aramis gave out a soft sigh of utter content and smiled slightly in his sleep. Athos continued his petting, relieved to feel the warm life of Aramis' hair through his hand. This was not the first time he had done this. He visited Porthos' room often to check on his brothers, always leaving before he woke them. He never scolded Porthos for leaving the door unlocked anyway, as it would give him away. He was happy to steal these moments, even if they were short. He knew Aramis would let him hold him, much like a cat Aramis was. But Athos was satisfied with this, just watching them made him happy. He would get over his need to pull Aramis into his arms soon enough, just like always.

He gently stood up and removed his hand from Aramis' hair. As he stepped away from the bed however, Aramis turned his head and blinked sleepily up at him, looking much like a child. Instead of Athos running through excuses in his head as to why he would be there, he simply smiled in answer to the curious look Aramis gave him. He was so very happy to see those Tawny eyes full of life, even in their sleepy state. In this moment Aramis' eyes did not carry the burdens of life, his sleepy expression was pure and innocent. Athos suddenly had a very clear vision in his mind of what Aramis must have looked like as a child.

"What's wrong?" Aramis whispered, his voice scratchy from sleep.

"Nothing." Athos replied, "I simply wanted to check on you."

Aramis face broke into a smile as he looked up to Athos curiously. Porthos gave a soft groan but didn't open his eyes. His lips, however, turned into a broad smile.

"There's place enough for three." Porthos mumbled, eyes shut.

Aramis suddenly looked like a child on his birthday and he promptly wriggled even closer to Porthos to make room.

Athos really did not have any excuse as to why he should leave so he removed his coat and climbed in the bed next to Aramis. He rested his head on the pillow and turned to face his brothers. Aramis turned onto his back and was looking at him curiously.

"Something is wrong." Aramis whispered, "You've been crying. I can see it in your eyes."

"I assure you, all is well." Athos replied.

Aramis turned to his side to face him and Porthos' hand slid back from beneath him to rest on his chest where Aramis' head was moments before.

"You had a nightmare." Aramis said with the confidence of a man who knew much about the subject of nightmares. Because he did. Because Aramis carried far too much on his young shoulders.

"I'm so sorry, Aramis." Athos said as he reached his hand up to cup Aramis' cheek, "I'm so sorry that I wasn't there with you, that we weren't there with you in that forest."

Aramis frowned in understanding because there was only one forest that haunted all of them.

"No Athos," He said, "I'm glad you weren't there with me. I'm glad you did not have to experience that. But I am sorry, Athos, that you had to go there."

Athos moved his hand back to Aramis hair, "I brought you back home didn't I?"

"Yes," Aramis replied, "Just like always."

Aramis wriggled closer and Athos wrapped an arm over him and slid his other underneath him. He pulled him close and held on tightly, except this time Aramis held him back. Athos released a deep, drawn out breath and inhaled again, his face in Aramis' hair. He soaked up his warmth, his smell; gunpowder and cheap cologne, a smell that chased away the darkness of his nightmare that had clutched and squeezed at his heart with its sharp claws.

"Yes," Athos repeated, "Just like always."

He lowered his chin and placed a soft kiss to Aramis' hair. He did not loosen his arms when he heard Aramis start snoring softly, simply took more joy in the sound than he would ever admit.

"I left the door unlocked for you." Porthos' voice came from beside them.

Athos' eyes snapped open.

"You knew?" he whispered, shocked.

"'Course I did," Porthos replied, the smile evident in his voice, "You think I didn't know this whole time? You don't always have to leave, you know. He would love it if you stayed, we both would. You are always welcome, Athos."

Athos couldn't help but smile at that.

"I know," Athos whispered in response, trying to absorb every bit of Aramis that he could, will you leave it unlocked tomorrow?"

"Of course," Porthos answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "just like always."

…

And that's that folks! Thank you so very much for your continued support, it is unbelievably precious to me. I can't put in words how much I adore this fandom and all its people. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!

I am currently taking a look at what's been happening on the kinkmeme, so I might fill some prompts from there in the future. This is not the last you have heard from me *Big hugs for everyone!*


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